“I separated it into five samples. Hopefully it’s enough.” She gestured at three of the dishes as Tamani and Chelsea peered over her shoulders. “You can see I’ve tried some different things with these. I mixed this one with purified water to make a paste that I’ve been touching and tasting—”
“Tasting? Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Tamani asked. “It might be poisonous.”
“I checked for that first. Nothing poisonous in it. That, I can detect. Generally.” When she saw his look of alarm she rushed on. “Besides, I’ve been tasting it for three days and nothing has happened to me yet. I haven’t even had a headache. Trust me—it’s fine.”
Tamani nodded, but he didn’t look entirely convinced.
“This one I’ve mixed with a carrier oil—that’s a neutral oil that doesn’t actually affect the mixture,” Laurel explained to Tamani and Chelsea’s blank looks. “I used almond oil this time, to settle it into parts. I was able to discover two ingredients that way.”
“I didn’t know you could do that,” Chelsea said, her breath close to Laurel’s cheek.
“I am experimenting a bit,” Laurel admitted. “Breaking down a mixture into its individual ingredients is difficult. It requires me to figure out the potential of each component, then match the effects with the list of plants I know. Some are easy,” she said, feeling her confidence grow as she explained the processes she’d been going through. “Plants I work with regularly, for example, like fichus and stephanotis. But there are so many components in this stuff.”
“What are you doing with that one?” Chelsea asked, pointing to a dish cloudy with scorch marks.
“This one doesn’t have any additives in it. I’m simply heating it over a flame and letting it cool and observing the kinds of residue it leaves. Sadly, it destroys the powder’s effectiveness. But this is how I discovered the blueberry.”
“Blueberry?” Chelsea asked, then tilted her head to the side. “It is blue.”
“It’s a mask. It’s not doing anything in the mix. In fact, if there were much more, it would wreck the warding.”
“Then why put it in?” Tamani asked.
Laurel shrugged. “No idea. I’ve identified eleven components, and I know there are a couple more. But the main issue is that I still haven’t identified the dominant ingredient. This powder is more than half some kind of flowering tree, and I can’t figure out which one.”
“Like an apple tree?” Chelsea asked, but Laurel shook her head.
“More like a catalpa tree,” Laurel explained. “Flowers only—no fruit. But it’s not quite that.” She pointed at a large stack of books beside her bed. “I’ve been going through those page by page trying to figure out what it is. The most maddening part is that I know I’ve worked with it before. I just can’t remember.” She sighed and looked up at Tamani. “I’ll keep trying,” she offered.
“I know you will,” Tamani said, laying one hand on her shoulder. “And you’ll figure it out in the end.”
“I hope so,” Laurel said, turning away from him to look out the window. She shouldn’t feel so disappointed with herself. She couldn’t be expected to do what the master students at the Academy could. She hadn’t even caught up with the acolytes yet, but she still kind of felt like she should have. She was the scion! She should have skills.
Guess I’ve been reading too much fantasy.
“Do you want me to bring you some more of the powder?” Tamani asked.
“Oh, no,” Laurel said quickly. “It’s not worth the risk. Especially when I’ve got two samples I haven’t even tried yet.”
“Let me know if you need it,” Tamani said softly. “I’ll find a way.”
Laurel nodded, wishing they were alone. Not necessarily so she could do anything with him, but maybe just hug him good night without getting probing questions from Chelsea. But then, that might just lead to places she didn’t want to go—had already gone once today.
“Well,” Tamani said, before the awkwardness could set in. “I’m off. Chelsea, lovely to see you today. Be safe.”
Chelsea nodded.
“And Laurel, I will see you . . . eventually.” He looked at her meaningfully for a long moment, then ducked out the bedroom door.
Chelsea waited only half a second before turning to Laurel with sparkling eyes. “That was so awesome!” she said, just shy of a squeal. “He’s not David,” she added, “but he definitely has his own charm.”
* * *
Tamani swerved to the side of the road when he saw lights wink on at Yuki’s house. He had caught her just as she was arriving home. With luck, Klea might still be with her. Tamani killed the engine and silenced his phone, moving noiselessly on foot—but not so sneakily that a neighbor seeing him might call the cops. As he approached, he could hear her through the open window—it sounded like she was on the phone.
“I’m trying,” Yuki said, the frustration evident in her voice. Tamani sucked in a breath and stilled, straining his ears. “I’ve been trying. But she can tell; I had to stop for a while.”
Tamani held his breath, trying to catch every word. She was obviously upset and probably talking much louder than she realized.
“I know the old man can do it. That’s all I ever hear from you. But I can’t, and he’s not exactly here to teach me, is he?”
Tamani tensed. Who was “she”? Who was “the old man”?
There was a long silence and Yuki sighed. “I know. I know, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice small again. She said “yeah” several times and Tamani could tell the conversation was winding down. He took a couple of heavy steps and knocked on the door before she could catch him eavesdropping.
Yuki paused, then said, “I gotta go; Tam’s here.”
Tamani craned his neck at the window. Had she seen him? But then, who else would be knocking on her door this evening? Still, it was more than a bit uncanny. By the time she answered the door, he had a friendly smile plastered on his face.
“Hey,” Yuki said, smiling winsomely. “I didn’t know you were coming, did I?” She reflexively looked at her phone for some sign of a voice mail.
“No, I was just out driving and saw lights. I didn’t think you’d be back yet.”
“Klea got called away on business. Again. She dropped me off early and I got mad and took a walk . . . anyway,” she said, thoroughly flustered now. “You want to come in?” Yuki asked, holding the door open.
“Why don’t we sit on the porch?” Tamani asked. “The weather’s great.” She was mad at something and already sloppy. Tamani had every intention of using that to his advantage. But there was something almost sultry in her eyes tonight and Tamani didn’t want her using that to her advantage.
“If you want,” Yuki said after a hesitation that confirmed Tamani’s suspicions. They sat on the steps of her porch, facing out at the street.
“What did you do for Thanksgiving?” Yuki asked.
Lie or truth? “Nothing,” Tamani said with a grin. “It’s not exactly something we celebrate in Scotland.”
“We have a sort of Thanksgiving in Japan,” Yuki said. “But kinro kansha no hi isn’t celebrated in quite the same way. The break from school is nice, though.”
“You can say that again,” Tamani said, grinning now; glad they were on a subject he could be honest about. “Was that Klea on the phone when I walked up?”
“Yeah,” Yuki said, the bitterness back in her voice. “I’d rather not talk about it, though.”
“No worries,” Tamani said soothingly. Was she getting suspicious of him? Or was she just genuinely upset at Klea?
“Tam?”
“Yeah?”
She took a deep breath, as if fortifying herself for something truly painful. “Am I your girlfriend?” she blurted in a rush.
Tamani had to grit his teeth hard to keep the smile on his face. He tilted his head back and forth, as though considering. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “I don’t really like to put labels on things. I think they get
complicated when you do that. I prefer to just see what happens.”
Yuki nodded. “Okay,” she said, clearly nervous. “I just, I wasn’t sure and I thought . . . I needed to check.”
“You’re welcome to check,” Tamani said, smiling broadly and leaning back, propping his arms up behind him, resting one on the cement step behind Yuki’s back. He felt like he’d crossed an invisible line.
He steered the conversation toward neutral ground—easy enough, all he had to do was ask if she’d seen any good movies lately—and they chatted for about an hour. Tamani still marveled at how natural it was to be with Yuki most of the time. She was easygoing and even laughed at his dumb jokes. Under different circumstances they might have been friends, and it made him a little sad to know it was never to be—even if she was innocent, if she ever found out how much he’d lied and pretended, she would never speak to him again.
He tried a few times to nudge the conversation back toward Yuki and her life, but she avoided his questions and changed the subject entirely if he so much as mentioned Klea. It was frustrating, but Tamani finally decided that he would chalk up tonight to an evening of building trust. Hopefully that would pay off eventually.
“I better go,” Tamani said, eyeing the moon as it peered out from behind the clouds. “My uncle doesn’t know where I am.”
“Okay,” Yuki said, rising slowly to her feet.
Tamani stood beside her for a second, wondering if he was going to have to hug her.
She took a deep breath, then stepped toward him and he steeled himself to return an embrace. But she wasn’t aiming for his chest. He forced himself not to flinch as she planted a kiss against his lips. It was a nervous kiss, quick and tentative and not at all intimate. He quelled the urge to swipe his arm across his mouth.
“Oops,” Yuki said coyly. “It just . . . happened.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“ARE YOU OKAY?” CHELSEA JOINED LAUREL ON the floor, where she was slumped with her back against her locker, wracking her brain for some way to use the final sample. She’d decided to suspend one of the samples in wax yesterday and turn it into a candle to see what happened when she burned it. She had only succeeded in filling her room with a foul-smelling smoke that lingered in her curtains and bedding even after she’d left the windows open all night.
Which had made for a frigid night. Winter was still technically a week away, but a wet chill had descended on Crescent City and Laurel hadn’t managed to really warm up all day.
“I’m fine,” Laurel said, looking over at her friend. “Just a little tired. And I have a headache.” After several headache-free weeks, they had come back with a vengeance after Thanksgiving break. She hadn’t experienced stress headaches like this since last year, when things had gotten sticky with the trolls.
“Do you need to go outside for lunch?” Chelsea asked.
“It’s raining pretty hard. I don’t really feel like it.” She shrugged. “I should probably just eat something.” She always got a little run-down toward the end of the semester, but dealing with David, Tamani, and Yuki was twice as exhausting as fighting trolls, which—as it was practically a holiday tradition now—might have been preferable.
But Shar wasn’t going to let that happen. No matter how many times she or Tamani suggested they just raid the cabin and be done with it, Shar refused. After three weeks it seemed like a lost cause to Laurel, but Shar insisted it was too dangerous to barge in without knowing more, and would destroy their chance to learn something new besides. So they continued to watch and wait and wind tighter with every passing day.
Laurel tried to shake her gloomy thoughts away and smiled at her friend. “I’ll be fine. It’s just the end of the semester.”
“Yeah, finals. I totally get it.” Chelsea sighed. “I should just give up. I mean, unless David crashes and burns this semester there’s no way I can beat his GPA.” She laughed. “Of course, if I do slack off, this will be the one semester he does crash and burn, and then I’ll know that I could have beaten him, but I was lazy. So, it’s studyville for me,” she said, giving Laurel a sarcastic thumbs-up.
Laurel smiled and shook her head. She was proud of her good grades, but David and Chelsea took it to a whole different level.
The hallways were emptying out. Laurel thought about heading for the cafeteria, but she didn’t want to stand up. She wasn’t normally one for naps, but now seemed like a great time to make an exception.
“Can I ask you a really weird question?”
Laurel stared at her. “You just did. At least for you.”
Chelsea chuckled nervously. “I just . . . I just wondered. You’ve been broken up with David for a while now. Are you guys done for good?”
Laurel studied the floor. “I don’t know.”
“Still?”
Laurel shrugged.
“So, if—hypothetically—I were to ask him to the winter formal next week, would that be a problem?”
Laurel gaped at Chelsea as a strange feeling settled in her stomach. “Did you break up with Ryan?”
Chelsea rolled her eyes. “No, no. Thus the hypothetical part.”
“That’s a pretty extreme hypothetical,” Laurel said. Her mind was racing. It wasn’t that she actually expected Chelsea to ask David. But . . . what if she did?
Chelsea shrugged.
“I—I . . .” Laurel couldn’t even think of anything to say. The idea that David would go to any kind of formal dance with anyone but her was beyond comprehension. Laurel and David hadn’t missed a formal dance since sophomore year.
“Forget it,” Chelsea said. “I can see it bothers you. I’m sorry I said anything. Please don’t be mad.”
“No,” Laurel said, climbing to her feet and extending a hand to help Chelsea up. “It’s okay. I’m glad you said something. Really. Are things that bad between you and Ryan? You haven’t said anything about his scores in a while. I figured that got sorted out.”
“More like swept under the rug,” Chelsea said, shrugging. “Anyway, let’s go get some food in you.”
But suddenly food wasn’t even on the list of things Laurel was thinking about. With the mystery of the trolls’ cabin, the unsolved puzzle of the blue powder, and Yuki’s constant presence, Laurel hadn’t had the time—much less the energy—to think about something like the winter formal. But now that Chelsea had brought it up, it somehow took priority. Laurel wasn’t sure exactly what she was going to do, but her mind was screaming at her to do something.
The noise of the cafeteria assaulted her ears as she studied the tops of the students’ heads, looking for David. He was pretty easy to spot, sitting beside Ryan, the two of them head and shoulders above most of the other kids around them. Chelsea got in the hot lunch line while Laurel strode over and tapped David on the shoulder.
“Hey!” he said, turning to her with a grin. So friendly. David was a model of platonic affection—except for the longing in his eyes. She wasn’t sure she wanted to lose that. Ever.
“Can I talk to you? Somewhere quieter?” she asked.
“Sure,” he said, getting up a little too quickly.
They walked together until they found a somewhat secluded section of the hallway.
“Is everything all right?” David asked, touching her shoulder.
“I—” Now that she had him here she wasn’t sure she’d be able to squeak out any words at all. “I was wondering . . .” She took a deep breath and blurted, “Have you asked anyone to the winter formal?” Only as the words tumbled out of her mouth did she realize she’d made up her mind.
Surprise was evident on his face. She wondered if it was mirrored on her own.
“I was just thinking . . . I was hoping maybe we could go. Sorry if it seems awkward, I just think we shouldn’t let this . . . stuff . . . totally destroy our social life and I figured maybe—” She forced her mouth shut before she babbled any more.
“What exactly are you asking me, Laurel?” David asked, studying the tops of his shoes.
And with those few words, Laurel realized what she’d just done. She’d asked David on a date. What did that mean for them? What did it mean for Tamani? Her head spun and she was confused again. She looked down, avoiding his eyes. Not that it really mattered; he wasn’t looking at her, either. “I just want to go to the dance with you, David. As . . . as friends,” she tacked on, thinking of Tamani.
He hesitated and for a moment Laurel thought he might turn her down.
“Okay,” he said at last, nodding. “That would be great.” Then he was smiling and his eyes were shining with hope. Laurel wondered if she’d made a huge mistake.
But part of her was just glad he’d said yes.
“What day do you finish finals?” Tamani asked, flipping idly through Laurel’s Government textbook while she rummaged through the fridge for something to eat.
“Friday,” Laurel said, wondering if Tamani had ever done more than flip randomly through any of his schoolbooks. “Friday morning. After that I get the rest of the day off.”
“Are you going to go to that dance on Saturday—the winter formal?”
Laurel looked up at him, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. “What exactly are you asking me?” She knew they couldn’t go together—it was too dangerous—but she was suddenly feeling a painful sort of déjà vu.
“Well, Yuki sort of . . . expects that we’re going together. I never asked her, but she’s practically planned the whole thing already. She wanted me to ask if we could go as a group again. I guess she really enjoyed that, in spite of how it ended. I know you’re not with David anymore, so it’s okay if—”
“No, it’s fine,” Laurel said. She wondered how hard it had been for Tamani to even imply that she ought to pair up with David for something. “I actually already talked to David about it. We’re going together. As friends,” she added, before Tamani could read too much into this bit of news. “So a group thing would be nice. But let’s not invite the trolls this time.”
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